ceived from
the old German.

"Poor old Calabressa!" he said. "Those Italians are always very fond of
little mysteries. But how he must have loved that woman?"

"Natalie's mother?"

"Yes," said the other, absently. "I wonder he has never gone to see his
sweetheart of former years."

"What do you mean?"

Brand started. It was not necessary that Lord Evelyn should in the mean
time be intrusted with that secret.

"He told me that when he saw Natalie it was to him like a vision from
the dead; she was so like her mother. But I must be off, Evelyn; I have
to meet Molyneux at two. So that is your advice," he said, as he went to
the door--"that I should comply with Lind's demand; or--to put it
another way--succumb to his threat?"

"It is not my advice at all--quite the contrary. I say, if you have any
doubt or distrust--if you cannot make the sacrifice without perfect
faith and satisfaction to yourself--do not think of it."

"And go to America?"

"I cannot believe that any such compulsory alternative exists. But about
Natalie, surely you will send her a message; Lind cannot object to
that?"

"I will send her no message; I will go to her," the other said, firmly.
"I believe Lind wishes me not to see her. Within the duties demanded of
me by the Society, his wishes are to me commands; elsewhere and
otherwise neither his wishes nor his commands do I value more than a
lucifer-match. Is that plain enough, Evelyn?"

And so he went away, forgetting all the sage counsel Calabressa had
given him; thinking rather of the kindly, thoughtful, mysterious little
message the old man had left behind him, and of the beautiful caged bird
that sighed and wept because she thought she was forgotten. She should
not think that long!

CHAPTER XXVI.

A PROMISE.

This was a dark time indeed for Natalie Lind--left entirely by herself,
ignorant of what was happening around her, and haunted by vague alarms.
But the girl was too proud to show to any one how much she suffered. On
the contrary, she reasoned and remonstrated with herself; and forced
herself to assume an attitude of something more than resignation, of
resolution. If it was necessary that her father should be obeyed, that
her lover should maintain this cruel silence, even that he and she
should have the wide Atlantic separate them forever, she would not
repine. It was not for her who had so often appealed to others to shrink
from sacrifice herself. And if this strange ne